This thought had come to him many times before, but now it was
followed by a new one. You don't have to live this way if you don't want
to. You can, of course … but you don't have to.

That voice was so strange, so unlike any of his usual mental
dialogues, that he thought at first he must be picking it up from
someone else — he could do that, but he rarely got uninvited
transmissions anymore. He had learned to shut them off. Nevertheless he
looked up the aisle, almost positive he would see someone looking back
at him. No one was. Everyone was sleeping, talking with their seatmates,
or staring out at the gray New England day.

You don't have to live this way if you don't want to.

If only that were true. Nevertheless, he tightened the cap on the
bottle and put it on the seat beside him. Twice he picked it up. The
first time he put it down. The second time he reached into the bag and
unscrewed the cap again, but as he did, the bus pulled into the New
Hampshire welcome area just across the state line. Dan filed into the
Burger King with the rest of the passengers, pausing only long enough to
toss the paper bag into one of the trash containers. Stenciled on the
side of the tall green can were the words IF YOU NO LONGER NEED IT,
LEAVE IT HERE."
- posted by cjb @ 9:50 PM